A Wolf Apart
by Miah The Storm Wolf
Summary: Amaya of Akavir hasn't lived through the last few centuries to be stopped by the likes of Alduin, Ulfric, or even the Thalmor. Note that this story operates on the idea that the Champion of Cyrodiil and the Dragonborn are the same, immortal, person. I will explain more in-depth during the story. Taking votes on who Amaya's love interest should be. Males only plz. Cussing warning.
1. Chapter 1

**A Wolf Apart**

Amaya shook her head groggily. She had just awoken from her fuyugomori. It always took a long time to become coherent afterwards. She tried sitting up and stretching, but found her hands to be bound. She felt herself bouncing on a seat. Even with her eyes closed she knew it was a cart of some type from experience. As soon as her vision cleared she confirmed it was indeed a wooden carriage and also she was not alone. However, the others sitting nearby appeared fearful of her as they were scooted as far away as space allowed. She glared at them and asked, "Nani?"

The one dressed as a beggar began screeching various pleas. Recognizing the speech as Cyrodilic she switched languages. "What are you looking at?" Her throat hurt from the lack of use in so long.

"Never saw a werewolf that could talk," said a blue-armored man near the front.

"Not a werewolf," she replied blinking the remaining sleep from her eyes. "Where am I? Better yet, where are we headed?"

"I don't know, but Sovengard awaits us," he sounded resigned.

"The Nord afterlife? Then this is an execution." She didn't sound too worried. "Why's he gagged? Did he talk too much?" she asked with a laugh.

At the word "execution" the beggar started yelling again. "Silence, horse thief! And you watch your tongue, dog, this Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, the true high king of Skyrim."

She stopped smiling and snarled at him. "I am NOT a dog."

"Then what are you?" As she was about to answer the driver yelled at them to be quiet. It worked for about ten seconds before the blue soldier started talking again. "I recognize this place. It's Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if…"

"Spare us your life story." She sniffed the air. "Why do I smell sulfur?"

"I said quiet back there!" the driver yelled as he pulled to a stop. "All right you worthless criminals, step up as your name is called.

They all stepped out of the cart as the man with the list began reading off names, "Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak of Windhelm," Ulfric approached the block, "Raolof of Riverwood!" Raolof did the same, "Lokir of Rorikstead," Amaya used the lull in speaking to address the man with the list, but had no sooner opened her mouth when the horse thief bolted by yelling "You can't do this!" and leaving her with her mouth hanging open.

The dark-skinned legate merely sighed, "Archers!" Knowing what to do, the bowmen took down Lokir with a single shot. "Hadvar, back to the list," she ordered.

"Wait," Hadvar said, "she's not on the list, no one is, Lokir was the last name." He turned to Amaya, "Who are you? _What_ are you?" he asked appraising her. From all appearances the being before him was a tall bipedal wolf. Obviously female judging by her breasts, she was covered head to toe in silver-blue (think Russian blue cat) fur with lighter tones on her belly, feet, hands, under her tail, and around her hunter green eyes.

Finally given a chance to tell these legion idiots exactly who they were dealing with, she stood up straight and adopted an authoritative tone, "I am Amaya Boufuu, of the Okami clan. I am also known as the Champion of…"

Rikke didn't give her a chance to finish, "I don't care if your part of the Emperor's personal harem, you go to the block like everyone else. Execute the werewolf!" She bristled at the insult.

Hadvar looked at her sadly. "I'm sorry. I'll see if I can track down the Okamis to have your remains shipped back."

While the one called Tullius gave his monologue Amaya contemplated biting through her bindings and ripping out Rikke's throat. She was snapped out of her revenge fantasy by a distant roar. No one else seemed to hear it as one of the blue soldiers forced his way to the chopping block. As he was executed, a smell stronger than even his fresh blood reached her nose. "I smell sulfur again," she informed them.

"I don't care. Approach the block," Tullius said as he shoved her onto her knees. She heard another roar as he was speaking. Just as the headsman lifted his axe, a huge black dragon landed on a nearby tower, knocking everyone off-balance. It opened its jaws and all hell broke loose.

Amaya, as well as many of the Stormcloaks, used the ensuing chaos to make a break for it. She decided to follow the kind man known as Hadvar into a tower for shelter. As he cut her bindings she could think of only one thing to say to him, "I told you I smelled sulfur."


	2. Chapter 2

T-B-R: It _was_ rushed. I wrote it at about 3 in the morning and just wanted to get to sleep, but the ideas wouldn't let me. The more I got down, the more tired I got. Writing is cathartic.

Also I want to give a shout to the ever-awesome Wyndbain of deviantart for her awesome wolf-maker that gave me the cover image.

**Chapter 2 – Escape**

"So you did," Hadvar rubbed the back of his neck, "With that nose you could probably smell them coming from miles away. Anyway there should be some spare armor around here somewhere you can use. It may not fit your, er, _physique_ very well, but it's better than rags." He paused, looking uncomfortable, "What exactly are you?"

Amaya stopped trying to fit her foot in an imperial boot for a moment. With a sigh she said, "I'm not a werewolf if that's what you're worried about."

Hadvar looked ashamed, "That's not what I meant. It's just I've never heard of anything like you anywhere in Tamriel."

"That's probably because I'm from Akavir." She resumed trying to get the boot to fit. The boot won as she toppled over. From her spot on the floor she looked up at Hadvar and remembered something, "Thank you for offering to find my family, but considering where I'm from that would be almost impossible. And my kind, Okamis, are rare to begin with." Standing up and stomping finally got the stubborn boot to stay on her foot. She almost fell over again when a fire blast shook the tower. "We should probably get moving. I don't doubt that dragon would tear out these stones to get at any living being it can smell."

"Me either," Hadvar replied. He led her over to a blocked doorway and pulled a chain on the wall nearby. The action caused the grate blocking the door to slide into the ceiling.

Amaya stared at it for a moment before commenting, "You ever wonder where that _goes_? I mean, it just always seems to slide up into solid rock…" she trailed off noticing him looking at her with a you -are-crazy expression. She rubbed the back of her head embarrassedly. "Heh, my mind wanders a lot."

"I can see that. You know, they say curiosity killed the cat," He said with a smirk.

Amaya smirked right back, "Good thing I'm a wolf then, huh?" They both laughed at that. "All right, let's get the heck out of here." She crouched down into a stealth position.

"Why are you sneaking? It's just us," Hadvar asked with a perplexed look on his face. Regardless he began making his way to the next room.

She stood up and followed him. "Habit I guess. I'm used to dungeon delving alone. Sneaking is invaluable if you don't want to get overwhelmed by sheer numbers."

Hadvar just made a noncommittal noise and moved on. It wasn't long before they came across a large room. Voices could be heard from inside. "Stormcloaks," said Hadvar, "Maybe we can reason with them."

Amaya thought that sounded very sensible, but no sooner had they said, "Hello," than the Stormcloaks were upon them with sword and battleax. She had barely drawn her own blade before Hadvar felled both of them. She let out a long whistle, "That was impressive Mister… You know, I never got your name."

"Hadvar, of Riverwood," He said proudly.

"Riverwood huh? I take it they don't use surnames here then."

"Some do, but only if they are from a lineage worth remembering. Now miss Amia, let's get moving."

She rubbed her face tiredly, "It's Amaya."

He tried again, "Amala?"

She was beginning to think he was doing it on purpose until she saw how embarrassed he looked. "Just call me Ammy. It's less foreign sounding anyway." She started walking ahead of him despite not knowing the way. The whole place seemed pretty linear to her, not much of a chance of getting lost.

She could have cried when she realized the room ahead was the kitchens. It had literally been decades since she last ate, not that Hadvar knew that. While he took out the Stormcloaks, she was snatching every potion, apple, ingredient, and piece of meat in sight, which confused him to no end. Well, she took _almost_ every piece of meat. "What? You're not going to take the rabbit too?" He pointed to the rack where pheasants once hung.

"I can' ea' vat," She said around the apple in her mouth. Swallowing, she tried again, "I can't eat that."

"Why not? I thought wolves loved rabbit."

"_Wild_ wolves do, but I can't. I used to have a pet rabbit, Lucky, and now I can't bring myself to eat it. All I think of is I could be eating one of his relatives. Besides, they're just so cute."

Hadvar left it at that, thinking, "_Everything I find out about this girl just leads to more questions. Like how on Nirn she got a pet rabbit."_

The next door they opened led to the prison section where they were greeted by a blood spattered torture rack. Hadvar saw the disgusted expression on her face and was quick to defend the legion, "The torture room. I wish such methods weren't necessary…" She didn't let him finish.

"They aren't. They're only implemented by officials too lazy or too stupid to use cunning to get the information. Only the unintelligent use these methods. That's why it's called _brute_ force."

He knew she was right, so he elected to remain silent until they caught sight of the torturer and a guard. The three spoke for a time, but Ammy wasn't listening. She had caught sight of a black and silver book on the table and was reading through it. '_Dragonborn, huh? It's not worth much, but it looks important. And I love books."_ She was going to explore the rest of the room when the torturer addressed her directly, telling her that she could loot the corpse of their last prisoner, a mage, _if_ she could pick the lock. He said the last part with a sneer.

Luckily there was a lockpick next to the book and a few more in the next room (along with more books she noted happily.) She returned and got the lock open without breaking a single one. The torturer looked unamused and said, "Some sort of thief are you?"

Smiling at her luck with the pick, she stood and, still smiling, addressed the torturer, "In the loosely translated words of my homeland: _up yours._" His confused look made her smile even wider. She then picked up her bag of picks and books and walked over to Hadvar and the guard.

The guard assessed her for a moment and said, "I don't know about the old man, but I'm coming with you guys. She looks dangerous."

Hadvar looked him right in the eye and said, dead serious, "Good call." And so the three made their way into the tunnels, not knowing what wait for them next.

END NOTE: I would like to give this guard a name because even though he's only with us a brief time, the fact that it's the same voice as Fenris of DA2 makes me love him. And I can't keep calling him "the guard" through the next few pages of interactions.


End file.
